


Time. Forest. Axe.

by 78bathsheba



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Post-Mockingjay, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, johanna is my homegirl, noozealand made me do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 08:19:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2017758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/78bathsheba/pseuds/78bathsheba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cleaned up version of the tumblr ficlet inspired by noozealand's frantic tumblr ask: </p>
<p>"I keep thinking about johanna alone post mj tELL ME SOMETHING HAPPY"</p>
<p>(so I did)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time. Forest. Axe.

**Author's Note:**

> Original posted on tumblr:   
> http://78bathsheba.tumblr.com/post/80973804638/i-keep-thinking-about-johanna-alone-post-mj-tell-me

It takes a while. A few months maybe. Or years. It’s hard to remember.

Johanna returns to Seven, because that’s where her house is, and it’s still standing, so already she’s doing better than a lot of people after the Rebellion.

She drinks at first. A lot. Curses Finnick. A lot. Comes across a poster of Katniss in the rubble at the old trading post, tacks it up to a tree, and throws axes at it until it feels like her arm is going to fall out of its socket. Then she calls Haymitch to make sure he’s taking care of the little brat or _I swear you asshole I’ll come down there myself._ Maybe in a moment of weakness she tears up a little when he tells her that Katniss is finally eating again. With Peeta. _Yeah_ , she says, and even she can hear that it comes out sounding unbearably fond, _that little shit's the only one who could ever talk any sense into her_ _._

After the rage wears off and the boredom sets in, she starts going into the forest again: starts climbing trees like she used to with her little brother and her cousins, starts hauling some of the larger fallen branches home and making tiny, intricately carved animals. When that’s not enough, she decides it’s time to move on to furniture. She goes into the shed at the edge of her property and dusts off one of the old chainsaws, cleaning it carefully, making sure the teeth are sharp and the mechanical guts are oiled and in good working order. She hires some men and women from town—even a Victor can’t fell a thirty-foot pine on her own—to help survey her land and find appropriate trees.

It feels unbelievably good to be doing this again. Sometimes she hears the whirring of the blades, the shouts and laughter around her, and allows herself the luxury of pretending she’s fourteen and surrounded by her family and friends, the sun warm on her shoulders, an axe held loosely in one hand and her little sister clutching at the other.

Before she knows it, Johanna has managed to revive the lumber industry in Seven, and people are working again, which means they start to heal. The trading post is rebuilt, only this time without the asshole Peacekeepers collecting “protection tithes” from the merchants, or the corrupt mayor taxing the shit out of everything. And suddenly, Johanna’s life is full again: she's laughing more than she has in years, and she’s so exhausted from the good, hard work that at the end of the day even her nightmares are kept at bay. Most nights, at least.

And when Peeta calls her and asks her to come to Twelve for their toasting, she roars heartily and happily and tells him she’ll be on the next train, even if it’s not for another month. And when she shows up at their door in Victor’s Village with her swollen belly and aching ankles, complaining about the bumpy ride and the general shittiness of Panem’s railways, Katniss actually squeals with delight, Peeta immediately asks if she’s hungry—and her handsome, bearded friend with the heavily tattooed arms peeking out from the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel shirt is almost forgotten at the door until Haymitch claps him on the back, invites him inside, and starts telling him stories about the trouble Johanna used to get up to in the Capitol.

It took a while, she thinks, but she’s never been happier.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm kind of screaming internally because a couple of months after I wrote this, Capitol Couture posted this pic of Mr. District Seven (http://capitolcouture.pn/post/89263110897/today-we-honor-panems-district-heroes-never) and he's almost exactly as I'd written so now I'm pretty sure I'm psychic.
> 
> (Also: sorry, but I'm old and lame and don't know how to embed links soooo....)


End file.
